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An honestly fun summer disc. [Jun 27/Jul 4 2003, p.136]
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83Even if the divorcée flirts with being Sheryl Crow-y bland now, she can still let whip-smart lyrics flow with her potty mouth.
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80Beneath the highlights, she's still a messy troublemaker whose brain is as spicy as the rest of her body. [#17, p.146]
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Phair is a fine lyricist, and although she's lost some musical identity, she's gained potential Top Forty access.
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67Boilerplate MOR.... But what Liz Phair delivers is authenticity. [Jul 2003, p.107]
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She doesn't sell out so much as she sells herself short.
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There's nothing wrong with a change of pace, but there's a startling lack of depth in either the words, which are entirely too literal, or the music, whose hooks are at once too obvious and not ingratiating enough.
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The songs left over from the original, non-Matrix album form the emotional core of Liz Phair and make it worth hearing.
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40Mostly you're left with the sensation that the quickie you so hotly anticipated wasn't what you were looking for after all. [Sep 2003, p.104]
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[A] slickly produced holding pattern. [Jul 2003, p.122]
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30Embarrassing. [Dec 2003, p.134]
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20Even the non-Matricized songs are full of useless keyboard riffs, tacked-on guitar solos and loads and loads of overdubbed Lizclone background singers. Never before has so much work been put into making somebody sound so ordinary.
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Upon hearing the endless barrage of banalities on Liz Phair, it's hard not to feel scorned by the trite and shrill pop songwriting. [#5, p.106]
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20This is turgid, formulaic guff. [Nov 2003, p.114]
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20Where she used to be smart and provocative, Phair has become crass and bloated, her lyrics crude and her image apparently a grotesque exercise in self-parody.
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Worst of all, the album closes with three decent songs, reminders of Phair's talent that are muted by what's come before.
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Thematically uninspired and painfully boring.
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10For what it is, it may in fact be quite good. But, to her discarded fans, at least, she's given the ultimate finger.
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10A highly overproduced, shallow, soulless, confused, pop-by-numbers disaster that betrays everything the woman stood for a decade ago, and most heinously, betrays all her original fans.
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There's a glistening veneer of contented happiness coating the record, as if some adult-oriented radio programmer gleefully shat on it, but the tragedy is that Phair is wholly complicit in this utter waste of talent.
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Liz Phair proves so ultimately unnecessary, it might as well not even exist.
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User score distribution:
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Positive: 49 out of 71
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Mixed: 4 out of 71
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Negative: 18 out of 71
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